


Only Short People Get Colds in Hawaii

by gunslingaaahhh



Series: Idiot Hawaiian Husbands [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010) RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, mollycoddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-02
Updated: 2011-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-03 18:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunslingaaahhh/pseuds/gunslingaaahhh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scotty has a cold, Alex is a really annoying nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Short People Get Colds in Hawaii

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is actually like two years old, but was only ever posted to Livejournal. 
> 
> Apologies in advance for how absurd it may be; I was high on pistachio cannabis ice cream at the time.

"God damnit," Scott muttered for what felt like the umpteenth time. He'd snuck his arm out from under the blanket to feel around on the side table. He was trying to locate his tissues, but apparently he'd either knocked the box on the floor or thrown it out because it was empty.

Of course, if he didn't have a fucking cold -- in fucking Hawaii, of all places -- he wouldn't be in this predicament to begin with.

As it was, he was camped out on the couch, cocooned in the comforter from his bed. Laying in a sick bed just made him feel worse, so he'd shuffled his way out to the living room. He'd lucked out that there was a short break from filming; he hated working when he was sick. His sinuses felt like they were packed with cement, so he couldn't hear right and he'd be damned if he was breathing through his noise. This made his voice sound funny, his eyes were watering, and the entire bulb of his nose was chafed red and raw from being subjected to so many tissues.

He hadn't realized how bad it was until Dot had taken one look at him -- and a cursory sniff -- and had meandered out of the room. Even his _dog_ didn't want to deal with him; that said something.

He didn't mind, though; it was quiet, there was mindless television playing just loud enough to be background noise, and his illness was an automatic "fuck you" to anyone who tried to socialize with him.

Sighing and then coughing, Scott shimmied out of the blanket to look for his box of tissues, startling when there was suddenly a pounding on the door. Glaring at it blearily, he wondered who the hell it was and why they were bothering him. Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, he shuffled to the door and peered out through the peep-hole: Alex.

"Lord, give me strength," he said to himself, rolling his eyes heaven-ward and clenching his fists around the edges of the blanket. He knew Alex knew he was there; why else would he just show up as opposed to calling? Alex _also_ knew Scott was sick... or at least, Scott thought he did. "Only one way to find out," he huffed, opening the door just enough to peer out and glare.

Alex was bouncing on the balls of his feet, already talk-talk-talking, going a mile a minute before stopping abruptly. For a minute Scott was concerned Alex had had an aneurysm, or perhaps a stroke, but then the other man narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Scotty, are you... wearing a blanket?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am; is there something I can do for you?" Scott hoped if he spoke fast enough, Alex wouldn't notice the nasally, congested tone to his voice.

No such luck.

"Whoa, mate, are you sick? You sound awful! Here, let me come in and I'll--"

"Hey, wait a minute, why would you want to enter my home knowing that I'm ill? That's just what we need, the both of us sick and hacking all over the place."

Alex regarded him for a moment, cocking his head in the perfect imitation of a dog. "But why would you want be alone when you don't feel well? I hate being left by myself when I'm sick."

"That's you; I don't mind the solitude," Scott replied, trying to close the door without slamming it in Alex's face. "Now if you'll excuse me--"

"Fuck that," Alex said, as though he were commenting on the weather. He stuck his foot in the door -- _great big ape man feet_ , Scott thought -- and began to wedge himself into the narrow opening. Scott knew he'd lost the battle; he didn't feel well and that made him weak and tired. If Alex wanted to bodily push through the door, there was nothing Scott could do about it.

"Fine! Just, get in here and close the door," Scott said with a huff, throwing his hands up and making his way back to the couch. Dot ran past to greet Alex, and the two of them shared a look that had Scott wishing he had some strong drugs in the house. He climbed onto the couch and began to rewrap himself, trying to get comfortable again.

He groaned then, realizing that he hadn't gotten a fresh box of tissues. The sound must've been more unhappy than he'd thought, because suddenly Alex was right up in his face, all worry and concern.

"What's the matter?" he asked, eyes searching. He was very close, practically breathing Scott's air, and Scott recoiled back, clamping his mouth shut. He'd never hear the end of it if Alex got sick because of him.

"Nothing, I just ran out of tissues."

"I'll grab 'em," Alex said, grinning, moving to the kitchen and the cabinet with the paper goods stashed away. Scott shook his head at the box Alex returned with, grumbling.

"Those aren't the right ones--"

"These have lotion in them so your skin doesn't get irritated," Alex said, voice patient. He sounded like he was talking to a child, and while part of him was glad Alex had found the lotion tissues, part of him didn't feel like being nice. He shouldn't have to, he was sick.

Scott snatched the box out of Alex's hand and tore it open, blowing his nose and sighing at how much better it felt than the dry scratchy ones he'd been using.

After a few minutes, he noticed Alex was still staring at him, a weird look on his face. Scott blinked a few times -- his eyes were watering again -- and stared back, confused. He knew that face, he'd seen it before, he just couldn't place--

Oh.

Oh, _shit_.

Alex was in dad-mode. It was all over, there was no way Scott was going to be spending another minute alone for the rest of the day, and maybe even the night. As the realization dawned on him, Alex went back to the kitchen, banging and clanging around.

"Don't you dare make a mess in there!" Scott hollered, his voice cracking. "I'm in no position to clean up."

"I'll clean it, don't worry -- you don't have anything for soup in here?"

"I--what--soup? No, why would I? This is _Hawaii_ , why would I eat soup?"

Alex appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, a disappointed look on his face. He sucked his teeth and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're sick, you should have some soup, it'll help clear your sinuses. It isn't like you can taste anything anyway, right?"

Scott grudgingly agreed; that was the great thing about having a cold: everything you ate or drank tasted like soggy cardboard. Alex popped back into the kitchen, and Scott could just barely hear him muttering to himself, the slight lilt of his accent deepening as he thought aloud.

Feeling achy since having to get up, Scott remaneuvered himself until he was lying almost flat, deciding he'd close his eyes while the crazy person attempted to make soup from nothing.

More time must have passed than he thought, because Scott woke up to someone -- or something -- poking him in the face. He opened one eye and saw Alex, who was holding a bowl and a spoon. There was steam rising from the bowl, and an expectant look on Alex's face.

"Soup's on! Here, sip it," he said, shoving the bowl into Scott's hands. Scott peered into the gold-colored depths and was impressed; Alex had managed to cobble together a vegetable soup, carrots and celery and potatoes floating around. He hadn't even realized he'd _had_ those things--

"Alex, did you go shopping?"

"Um... maybe? You didn't even have anything to make _broth_ with! Or anything healthy... I just grabbed a few things."

"You are out of control," Scott muttered, sipping gingerly at first, then more heartily once he discovered the soup wasn't going to scald his lips off. He couldn't really taste it, but he was hungry and his stomach had been crotchety all day. The soup felt amazing going down, soothing the roughness of his throat, and the steam did seem to be moving the gunk around in his sinuses.

"Good?" Alex asked, slightly hesitant.

"From what I can gather, yeah. Thanks," Scott replied, practically inhaling the soup. Alex laughed, reclining back into the couch cushions and turning his attention to the TV. Putting the empty bowl aside, Scott snuggled back down into his blankets and then grunted with frustration; it was impossible to arrange both himself and the blanket the way he wanted on the couch. He could stand and do it, but that would require... standing. Too much effort.

"Need a hand?" Alex piped up, grinning. Scott wiggled around some more before sighing unhappily and nodding.

"I just want to be wrapped up, without my feet sticking out or anything, it shouldn't be this hard," he grumbled, trying not to cringe at how whiny he sounded. Alex just nodded, like he knew exactly what Scott meant, and stood, pulling Scott with him.

He removed the blanket, leaving Scott shivering -- but just a little -- in his t-shirt and sleep pants, before shaking it out and wrapping it around Scott's shoulders.

"Lie down how you were gonna," Alex said, practically ordered, and Scott obliged, shifting until he was comfortable. Before he had a chance to open his mouth, Alex was arranging the blankets over his legs and middle, wrapping him up tightly. When Alex stepped away and sat back down, Scott looked down the length of his body and had to smile: Alex had wrapped him up like a burrito. His feet were tucked snugly away beneath the blanket, he had enough room to move his legs if he wanted, and there was plenty of blanket to pull up to his chin, should he so desire.

"You're good at this," Scott yawned, wriggling some more until he was almost entirely horizontal, his feet pressing against the side of Alex's thigh.

The other man shrugged, ducking his head and grinning a little. "I've had some practice."

"What, swaddling infants?" Scott teased, eyes gliding closed as the warmth from the blanket and the fullness in his belly began to lead him back towards sleep.

"You saying you're a baby, Scotty?" Alex asked, the grin evident in his voice. Scott frowned, eyes closed as he kicked at whatever part of Alex he could reach, humming with satisfaction when the other man grunted a little.

Alex grabbed at his ankles and held his feet still, hands warm and felt through the blanket. Scott ceased his kicking and allowed Alex to hold his feet in his lap, squeezing gently here and there.

With anyone else it would've been strange, Scott knew that. That was part of what made it ok, in his mind, that it _wasn't_ strange for him to have his feet in Alex's lap and for Alex to be almost massaging them as he was. It was just... them.

And, sick or not, Scott couldn't have cared less what anyone else might have thought.  


-FIN-


End file.
